


Just Leave Your Problems On the Shelf (We'll Be Alright)

by BeautyGraceOuterSpace



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Bones, Hurt Jim, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Traumatic Experience, jim hasn't dealt with his death, neither has bones, they have some talking to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 13:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11692167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautyGraceOuterSpace/pseuds/BeautyGraceOuterSpace
Summary: His throat had swelled shut and there had been a few moments of oh god can’t breathe, can’t breathe and the resulting panicked flashbacks to the warp core and oh god, he hadn’t been in the best mood. And when Bones followed him back to the bridge to hover over him and scan him with a tricorder every four minutes to “monitor his oxygen levels”, he started to get angry.None of this, of course, was any excuse for deciding to bark at Bones on the bridge in front of everyone, “For god’s sake Bones, it’s not like I died!”





	Just Leave Your Problems On the Shelf (We'll Be Alright)

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to fromashell for reading this 8 million times and giving me edits and feedback. It probably never would have gotten finished without you.

His crew was nothing but a bunch of nosy busybodies who needed to give him a moment to breath and stop treating him like he was going to break. The Khan incident had been months ago. He’d been cleared for duty. He’d done his PT. He was fine. The Enterprise had been back in the black for several weeks, and everything was going fine. There had been no major events to speak of, unless you counted today’s clusterfuck, which honestly, he didn’t because he’s allergic to everything in the goddamn universe anyway, so an allergic reaction from a planet native plant was bound to happen eventually.

And yes, maybe his throat had closed. And yes, maybe he had panicked a tiny bit because he couldn’t breathe. His throat had swelled shut and there had been a few moments of _oh god can’t breathe, can’t breathe_ and the resulting panicked flashbacks to the warp core and _oh god_ , he hadn’t been in the best mood. And when Bones followed him back to the bridge to hover over him and scan him with a tricorder every four minutes to “monitor his oxygen levels”, he started to get angry.

None of this, of course, was any excuse for deciding to bark at Bones on the bridge in front of everyone, “For god’s sake Bones, it’s not like I died!”

The second he said it he hated himself for it. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, the weight of guilt resting heavily on his shoulders. The tension on the bridge had been thick before; now it was downright palpable. His crew knew him and they could tell he hadn’t been in the greatest spirits since everything had happened. None of them had been, truth be told, worry and affection for each other mixing to create an overbearing atmosphere of concern that very few of them knew how to manage.

His eyes slid shut as he hissed out a barely audible, “F---.” Licking his lips, he turned to face his friend and he exhaled painfully, croaking out, “Bones, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“Shut up,” Bones whispered, and Jim was taken aback by the amount of anger in his voice, anger that quickly gave way to bone deep exhaustion as Bones’ shoulders slumped and he sighed, “Just… shut up.” Jim opened his mouth to reply, but Bones had already turned on his heel, away from Jim.

The hiss of the turbolift doors carrying him down to MedBay was like a punch to the gut. _Fuck_. With a sigh, swallowing past the lump that had risen in his throat, he rose from his chair. “Spock, you have the conn.”

 

He found Bones in his office, and for possibly the first time in his life he took the time to knock, gently rapping his knuckles on the door frame to announce his presence. Not that it was needed; Bones didn’t even move. He was stood over his desk, fists pressing into the firm surface, shoulders tense and head bowed, breathing slowly and evenly through his nose. Jim didn’t say a word, giving his friend time to calm down before they spoke. He’d pushed him more than enough today.

Several minutes passed. Jim remained in the doorway, watching Len’s back, waiting for the right time to begin a conversation neither of them wanted to have but desperately needed to. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, but Len beat him to it.

* * *

 

“Don’t.” The word came out sharper than intended. He didn’t move, stayed staring at his hands as they clutched the edge of his desk, knuckles turning white, a slight tremor working it’s way up his arm as the adrenalin and anger and hurt poured through his system.

“I just wanted to--”

“Jim, _don’t._ ” God, what wasn’t he understanding? He couldn’t do this, not now, not when he was this angry, not when Jim was still making those throw away comments like he wasn’t… like he hadn’t…

“I---”

Len slammed his hands against the desktop, the sound sharp and loud in the small space, making Jim jump behind him. Lip curling, he whirled around to face the younger man still standing in the doorway like he wasn’t allowed to enter, like he hadn’t invaded every facet of Len’s life from the moment they met only to take it all away and leave him desperate in the wake when he…

“God, you don’t get it, do you?” He could feel his hands shaking. “You really don’t have a goddamn clue, do you, Jim?” Finally, Jim moved. Glancing over his shoulder and realizing that they were technically surrounded by other people in the MedBay, he stepped fully into the room, the door closing behind him. He didn’t come any closer.

“Look, I had no right to say that and I’m sorry, I just--”

“No right to sa-- _no right to say that_?” Len scoffed, eyebrows pulling incredulously as he stared at Jim in disbelief. “You had no right to… _Jesus_ , Jim, you are so far out of line saying shit like that after---” He shook his head incredulously, willing away the tears that were burning at the backs of his eyes.

“I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I--” Jim stepped forward as he spoke, his hands raised slightly between them in a desperate appeal for forgiveness.

“You died, Jim,” Len cut him off, gaze distant as he stared at the floor between their feet. Jim stopped short. “They brought you to me in a goddamn _body bag_. Do you…” he paused, swallowing harshly, “do you have _any_ idea what it was like to not be able to make you _breathe_?” Silence.

He looked up, finding Jim’s eyes with his own. At least, he tried to. Jim wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the wall, head turned slightly away from Len, but he was still listening. “You stopped breathing, Jim. I don’t know what it was like for you, if it was like falling asleep, or…” That wasn’t fair, he knew what radiation poisoning did to the body. He amended weakly, “ I _hope_ it was, but you-- you weren’t-- you stopped _breathing_ , and Lord knows I’ve dealt with that once or twice but… the radiation destroyed your cells, and I couldn’t fix it. They brought you to me and you were cold and _I couldn’t fix it_ , and I thought I would never see you again---” his breath hitched and he paused, looking up to the ceiling as he waited until he was sure his voice would be steady. “I thought I would never see you again,” he repeated, covering his eyes with his hand and rubbing at his temples. “I wasn’t there…” And if that wasn’t the crux of it all. “God, kid, I broke _every_ code of ethics I have to bring you back…”

“Well,” Jim said his tone dark and low, making Len look up sharply in surprise, “I’m sorry I made you do that.”

And wasn’t that just typical? This was Jim’s M.O. when he got defensive, or overwhelmed: he pushed back. He picked fights. He threw out comments intending to hurt and regretted them almost immediately. It was exactly what had happened on the bridge. But Jim wasn’t mad at him, not now. Len had heard that exact tone enough times to know exactly what it was: Jim was mad at _himself_. And for the first time since they shipped out again, Len took a moment to look at his friend, to really look, not just for vitals and cell counts and health stats, but for how Jim was really doing.

Jim was pale; his hands had begun to shake, fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to hide it. There were dark circles under his eyes that grew more pronounced as the blood drained from his face, sure signs of sleepless nights. Beneath the command gold, there remained lingering signs of weight and muscle loss. His hair was slightly too long and his eyes were slightly too dull, and the tension in his shoulders had to be bordering on painful.

Jim hadn’t dealt with this at all. From the moment he’d woken up, he’d been his usual sarcastic, brush it off, pain in the ass self. He’d done as he was told to recover, albeit grumbling occasionally, desperate to return to some semblance of normalcy aboard his ship with his crew and his family, and he had pushed himself to be command ready as soon as possible. For all that Len had been hurting, for all the nightmares and tears and long sleepless nights, it would seem Jim had had them in equal measure. How had he not noticed? They should have done this months ago. It shouldn’t have taken such a god awful comment -on the bridge, in front of everyone, shit- to get them here.

“You didn’t _make_ me do anything, Jim. I did it because--” he trailed off with a sigh. Now was not the time to have that conversation, not with Jim so defensive. He wouldn’t accept any heartfelt declarations right now, and Len couldn’t take that, not today. But it would seem he didn’t need to say anything anyway.

Jim deflated, sighed heavily, sinking into a chair against the wall opposite the desk and leaning his elbows on his knees, tangling his fingers in his hair. “I’m sorry, Bones. I didn’t come down here to fight with you, I really didn’t. I came to apologize.”

“I know, Jim. And I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t know if you realize how--”

“It’s not like falling asleep,” Jim interrupted, a whisper, hoarse and raw. “It’s _nothing_ like falling asleep.”

Taken aback, Len cautiously took a few steps forward, sinking into the chair next to Jim but not touching him, not yet. Jim tended to shut down if he was pushed too far too fast.

“It hurt, Bones,” Jim continued, voice breaking on the nickname as his shoulders gave the slightest hitch. “It _really_ hurt… I couldn’t breathe, I-I couldn’t move, I just…” _Oh, Christ._

“Kid---” Len began, because he had to offer his friend some comfort, any comfort, but Jim’s next words halted his in their tracks.

“I just _laid_ there and… God help me, Bones, I wanted you there…” a cynical laugh broke his sentence, “but I am _so_ glad you weren’t there. If you had been there…” he trailed off into a whisper, sounding almost ashamed, “I don’t think you could have come back from that.”

Well, that was unexpected. Of all the things he had thought Jim would say, that certainly wasn’t one of them. Jim’s hands were shaking against his head, tugging reflexively against his hair as he curled even further in on himself, shoulders shaking with hitching breaths as he finally acknowledged what had happened. Len was surprised it had taken his long, honestly. Jim had been growing increasingly irritable, and Len didn’t blame him. He _had_ been hovering. Hell, they all had.

Jim’s… the Khan incident had taken something from them, rattled them to their core, and left them reeling in the aftermath, fumbling for purchase in unfamiliar terrain, fighting to piece something together that they hadn’t even realized was broken.

He couldn’t blame Jim for this, not entirely. They hadn’t dealt with this, either. From the moment Jim’s heart had started beating again there had been nothing but earth shattering relief from the crew, Len most of all. Their world had been ripped out from under them and then their feet found solid ground again. It was as if the steady rhythm of Jim’s heartbeat reassured them again and again, “It will be ok. It will be ok.” He hadn’t been out of the woods by any means, but he had been brought back, and he would be ok. They would make sure of it.

Only it had resulted in this. Their desperation to pick up where they had left off had led to a glaringly different dynamic than the one they had before. Everyone was too cautious, walking on glass, forcing themselves to carry on as usual in spite of their uncertainties, their fears. Jim especially had continued right on in his usual devil may care manner, flinging himself head first into danger and trusting his blind luck to spare him and his doctor to fix him. But the crew couldn’t handle that right now.

“Jim,” he began hesitantly, placing a gentle hand on Jim’s shoulder, “I would have been there… if you had asked, I would have been there.” Knowing his friend’s penchant for guilt, he quickly amended, “I understand why you didn’t ask, though, kid… I really do. You just…” his throat caught on the words, and he cleared it softly before continuing, “you did the best you could.”

Jim’s grip on his hair loosened slightly, head tilted as he took in the words. There was a desperation in Jim, always, to be validated. This was no different.

“You saved your crew, Jim. You were so brave, and you… Christ, you did the _impossible_ , kid. And everyone on board is thankful, hell, we owe you our lives… but we care about you, and after what happened... we’re going to worry.”

“Everyone’s been too worried,” Jim scoffed gently. “I feel like no one trusts me to take care of myself anymore and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Well,” Len snorted, “I knew better than to trust you to take care of yourself from the get go.” Jim’s small smile told him his joke was appreciated, and he continued, “But they didn’t, Jim. This is the first time that they’ve really…” he sighed. “I don’t think anyone thought it could happen, kid, and then it did. And we’re scared to death to lose you again.”

Jim was silent for a long moment before releasing his hair and dropping his hands into his lap, leaning into Bones’ grip on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for what I said… on the bridge,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Bones, I just…” he gestured vaguely, at a loss for words, before running a hand down his face.

“I know, Jim,” he replied, stretching an arm over both of the captain’s shoulders in a side embrace. “I’m sorry, too.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while longer, the tension of so many weeks lifting from them and leaving them fragile in the wake.

“So,” Jim finally said as he sat up, the physical contact making him uncomfortable. “Let’s make a deal: I promise to do my best not to injure or maim myself, and you promise not to check that I’m breathing every 3 ½ minutes?”

“Deal, kid,” he said, bumping Jim’s shoulder with his own. “Every 10 minutes it is.”

Jim huffed out a laugh. “Deal,” he agreed with a nod.

He stood and offered Bones a hand up, which Bones accepted with exaggerated groans as he, too, rose.

Before Jim could release his hand, he quickly jerked him into a hug.

“We’ll be ok, kid. We all will.”

They pulled apart after a moment. For the first time in weeks, their smiles reached their eyes.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Just Leave Your Problems On the Shelf (We'll Be Alright)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12140772) by [stuckwithyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckwithyou/pseuds/stuckwithyou)




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